Tracks (19 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY

The helicopter came in low
under the cliffs and pulled up almost vertically emerging instantaneously into
full view, catching everyone by surprise - a skillful maneuver since the
engines could not be heard from under the cliffs.

The troop dove into the sand
but it was too late.  They were spotted.  The helicopter veered
sharply to the left and came streaking over the line of fallen bodies trying to
blend into the sand.

Black Jack and Clair looked at
one another, then at Faraj, their fourth Bedouin guide, lying in between
them.  Faraj looked around, pointed at the nearest opening in the rock and
on cue they all sprinted there.  Panting from the sudden release of
energy, they all huddled in the narrow gorge for just a few seconds before the chopper
came at them again and they quickly fled into deeper rock cover.

Ten days into their journey
they had made meager progress.  Avoiding human trails, they constrained
themselves to walking the impenetrable Sinai terrain through gorges, sand, over
boulders and cliffs at the mercy of the wind, the heat, lack of water and
shade.  They kept to the highest most remote ridges progressing slowly
from one Bedouin camp to another. 

Ibrahim had fully recovered from
his snakebite but progress had been slowed almost to a halt in the first few
days, as he was barely able to step on his foot.  Clair was in shape and
kept up well, supporting her son as much as she could.  None of them could
keep up with the Bedouin who trod the landscape with ease of a goat but had to
constantly wait for his party.

Kabir, their second guide, the
one who had treated the snakebite and saved Ibrahim’s life, had taken them as
far as Mount Sirbal where they camped for two whole days in a large Bedouin
encampment of several families.  To get there, they had walked for three
days, sleeping out under the stars huddled together for warmth.  On their
second day walking following the snakebite affair they met a Bedouin from
another tribe straddling an ailing camel.  The Bedouin informed them of
Egyptian troops searching for them and that word now circulated amongst the
Sinai inhabitants. He suggested they stick to the mountain top routes almost
solely used by the Bedouins and warned of Bedouin tribes friendly to the
Egyptians.

“The soldiers are threatening
anyone who helps these foreigners,” he said, disregarding present
company.  “You are risking your life,” he told Abir who did not seem at
all perturbed.

“Those soldiers are after
money,” Abir said, surprising his company since no one ever mentioned the full
tale of why they were there being pursued.

“They are after this boy,”
Abir continued with Ibrahim and Clair translating simultaneously.  “The
boy wants to be with his mother,” he stated simply, pointing at Clair.

The other smiled.  “You
are welcome to water and food at my camp,” he said as he slid down his camel
and began to lead him away.

Abir hesitated a brief moment,
looking at his feeble crew before deciding to follow.  They reached a
well-hidden single-family site among a cluster of palm trees by a trickling
natural spring forming a tiny pool from which water was generously distributed
to them in tin cups.

Thankful for the refreshing
break they sprawled around in the shade oblivious to the danger lurking not far
away.  Their host, keen on lecturing, sat cross legged opposite Abir
giving him advice when the reliable guide noticed a trail of dust in the
distance and quickly herded his flock up the rocks. 

They had climbed quite a ways
and put a fair distance between them and the troop when Abir stopped at a vista
point to watch the Egyptian troop, all on horseback, reach the Bedouin
oasis.  They all disembarked leading their horses to water then sat around
the host, recognizable from a distance with his white Galabia and flapping
Kafiya.  There seemed to be a long and involved discussion but at no point
did anyone attempt to follow their trail.  Then the troop seemed to be
settling down, the men dispersing under the trees for an afternoon nap. 
Seemingly the host did not give them away.

They headed up the treacherous
mountain reaching their next Tarrabin camp a day later where they spent a day
recovering before being handed over to Ahmed for their next leg, emotionally
parting from Kabir.  

Ahmed took them across the
great Faran Wadi where they encountered numerous Bedouin sites tending to an
assortment of desert plants including dates and bananas with goats and camels
wandering unattended the length of a long aqueduct carrying water from springs
located at higher elevation.

Each site had a shady guest
area by the flowing water under tent cover between the palm trees arranged with
rugs and pillows for maximum comfort with the Bedouin women tending to food and
drink.  To exhausted people trekking the bare desert it looked like heaven
and in fact it was.  So inviting was it that they could not resist taking
a break in one spacious site despite the danger.

Wadi Faran was a major route
from the Katarina ridge westward, down towards A-Tur and the Suez Canal. 
The fleeing troop passed it almost at the very top near the springs but it was
still an area of relatively easy access for any Egyptian search parties
particularly those on horseback.  It was an ideal place to plant an ambush
but impulse overcame reason; despite Ahmed’s warnings the fugitives bogged down
for rest and recuperation enjoying
a few hours of shade,
Bedouin delicacies and clear fresh water
.  The Egyptians were
nowhere to be seen.

They slept at the bottom of
Mount Sinai that night.  Jack and Christine remained awake late, savoring
the majestic power of history.  The famous mountain where, many believed,
Moses witnessed the Burning Bush and received the Ten Commandments, loomed vast
and dark, full of mystery in the clear night.

“You get the feeling something
awesome could well have happened here,” Christine remarked quietly.

Black Jack leaned back on his
elbows and looked up at the mountain noticing its outline against the starry
sky.

“It seems time stands still
here,” he finally commented.  “Probably not much has changed the last two
thousand years.”

“Bedouins and camels are as
constant as these stars,” Christine said.  “Moses used them.  He was
also chased by the Egyptians.”

“He walked this desert for forty
years. I hope we can get out faster.”

“At the rate we are going we
might wander here longer.”

“I’d get a few camels if they
could climb these rocks,” Jack said.  

 “Sam’s probably going
out of his mind.”

“I bet he’s sent someone after
us already.”

“How long have we been out of
touch?”  Christine asked.

“One week,” Jack said. “We
took Ibrahim Saturday a week ago.”

“How much more do we
have?”  Christine queried.

“At the rate we’re going I’d
say at least another two weeks.”

“Can we try and send word out
with these Bedouins?”

“Word is out, Christine,” Jack
said.  “If anybody’s looking for us, they’ll eventually hear it.”

“But they won’t know our
condition.  My mother will go out of her mind.”

Jack went silent for a moment. 
“We could cut back down to the coastal road.  Try our luck with the road
blocks.”

“How long will it take to get
there?”

“Three or four days to the
coast then, who knows, we can split and hitch a ride.  We may get
lucky.” 

“Sounds
too risky.
  We could end up rotting in a Cairo jail
for life.”

“Not to mention Ibrahim going
back to his father.”

“What do you think Jack? 
You know this place better than anyone.”

“I know little, Chris, and
from the little I know I wouldn’t test the Egyptian roadblocks.  I’d keep
to the mountains.  Two weeks is an instant in time.  We’ll survive.”

Christine sighed.  She
thought of her mother and the hell she might be going through in a situation
almost identical to the one she had suffered when she lost her husband. 
There had to be a way to pass on word.  She decided to talk to Ahmed in
the morning.

Jack was dozing, his eyes
fluttering shut.  Suddenly he was awake again, looking at her, an idea
forming in his mind.

“Why don’t we split up? 
Chris, you go down to the coast.  Try to get word out to Sam.  He
could come and get you.  Meanwhile, you could stay with the Bedouins
disguised as one.  Even if you get caught they could never prove you were
part of this.”

“These people don’t need any
proof.  If they catch me they’ll pin everything on me and use me to pull
you in.”

“Chances of them catching you
hiding with these Bedouins are small.  Meanwhile, in a place like Nueba
you can get word out anywhere including to your mother.  We can agree on a
rendezvous where Clair, the boy and I can be picked up.”

“By
whom?”

“If it’s close enough to the
Israeli border, it could be Israelis, if they agree.  If not, well, you
guys are quite resourceful.  I’m sure you’ll come up with
something.” 

“You think Clair and the boy
can survive this?”

“They don’t have a
choice.  But our chances will improve considerably if you can get a rescue
team to pick us up somewhere.”

The plan had merit, Christine
realized.  It was risky but better than anything they could think of so
far.  She also realized Black Jack was being considerate with her personal
situation.

“Should we consult with
Clair?”

“No.  If you agree, then
the decision is made.  We’ll split up at the next camp and ask Ahmed to
take you.  I trust the little
fella
.”

“I guess I do too,” Christine
said tentatively, already thinking of her task and what lay ahead. With just
her and Ahmed they would be more agile and quicker but she would be vulnerable
to all sorts of hazards.  
A western woman, alone
in the vast desert, at the mercy of a Bedouin guide and his tribe who may act
differently in the absence of a guardian such as Black Jack.
  But
it was a risk she had to take for the sake of the people she was in peril with,
for the sake of her mother, and for herself for she felt responsible for the
entire mishap.

In the morning, around the
coffee pot, they spoke to Ahmed who readily agreed for a promise of an
additional fifty dollars, then broke the news to Clair.  A day later, in
the Bedouin camp near Mount Katarina they consulted the heads of families and
Black Jack’s maps and agreed on the best spot for a rendezvous some fifty
kilometers to the north on the great fork of the Sudan where the Katarina ridge
abruptly ended with a magnificent drop into the sand. The spot was still in
Egyptian territory but well placed with water and places to hide, only ten
kilometers south of the Israeli border.  It was estimated the group would
make it there in ten days, barring any disasters, and would wait for two full
days to be picked up.  Beyond that they would push further and try to
reach the Israeli border at Ramon.  The problem there was a difficult
trudge through the sand in plain view with few places to hide, and having to
cross a major road, border patrols, and the Fence.  Not far was a major
drug smuggling route the Israelis were often targeting, the hazard being the
group would be in danger of being mistaken for drug smugglers or terrorists.

Faraj, one of the
camp’s
most experienced and respected young adults was
selected to be the next guide and Ahmed was given the task of leading Christine
to Nueba. 

Dressed as a Bedouin woman,
her hair and face all but hidden from view, the map and details for the
rendezvous strapped to her stomach, Christine said a tearful goodbye and
obediently followed the Bedouin out of the camp and out of view beyond the
ridge to the east.  Black Jack, Clair, and Ibrahim followed Faraj in the
same manner but out along the ridge to the north.

The helicopter hovered above
as the foursome maneuvered among the rocks trying to escape.  Faraj had
managed to find a narrow path, which dropped down into a dangerously steep
canyon then back up along gigantic boulders,
then
through an even narrower gorge in which they stopped, completely hidden from
aerial view.  They stood hunched together in a shadowy niche knowing full
well that any ground units could easily flush them out with directions from the
chopper.  The chopper was of the combat type with only two operators but
back on the plateau where they had been spotted, any number of helicopter transports
could easily land and unleash troops to track them down.  So far they had
not spotted nor heard new threats from the air or ground but figured the
chopper had already send word and search parties were on their way.

Darkness was an hour
away.  It would be their best ally. They crawled on their knees along the
narrow path reaching a rocky chute that disappeared far below the ledge they
were on.  There was no alternative route but back where they came
from.  Faraj lowered himself to the chute and carefully began to slide
down.  He suddenly lost grip and plunged down on his stomach trying to
grab hold of anything disappearing in the dark opening below.  Clair let
out a muffled cry and the
group held its breath for a few
dreadful seconds listening to Faraj’s body descend
away into
oblivion.  Then they heard a splash and a thump.  Seconds later they
heard his voice far below.